


Honey Nut

by liketolaugh



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Autistic Link (Legend of Zelda), Deaf Character, F/M, Family Bonding, Link (Legend of Zelda) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Link (Legend of Zelda) Uses Sign Language, Link (Legend of Zelda) has Chronic Pain, Nonverbal Link (Legend of Zelda), Pre-Calamity (Legend of Zelda), Slow Burn, Time Travel, and let us meet his family, basically age of calamity if it were link-centric, not romance focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 22:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29865096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: It turns out that the death of the Calamity doesn't prevent more things from falling apart.A year after the fall of Calamity Ganon, eighteen year old Link goes back in time to before the end of the world, before the fall of Hyrule, before he ever even drew his sword, and starts to fix things before they can go wrong. It takes a while before he realizes he might be able to regain pieces of himself, too.
Relationships: Link/Mipha (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

The temple was ancient and crumbled, and Zelda had to cling to her governess, Mrs. Godfrey, all the way down the precarious wooden steps the carpenters had put in, eyes wide as she took in the great fall on the other side of the rickety railing. Her head turned this way and that, looking at the broken columns and the mossy walls and the rubble, before Mrs. Godfrey cuffed her gently over the head to make her refocus on her father.

King Rhoam was on one knee in front of the goddess statue, hair braided elaborately and head held high before the divine mother. Six royal guards flanked him in neat rows; Zelda knew all of them by face, if not by name, so they had to be the most senior of them.

“Dear mother Hylia,” he said, his voice ringing crisp and clear against the aged stone walls, “goddess of love and light, please let me speak the worries of my kingdom, our grief and our hopes.”

Contrary to what many in the kingdom believed, Zelda had learned prayer at her father’s knee, not her mother’s; it was a vital part of Hyrulean leadership, to have strong faith in the mother goddess that pulled them through catastrophe after catastrophe. For the Princess Zelda, her father had told her, for the female heirs of the throne, it was even more important.

She followed along intently, nodding along to the smooth cadence of her father’s speech. She barely even noticed Mrs. Godfrey’s hand tucking her closer, as if to secure her position.

“The signs of the Calamity draw ever clearer,” Rhoam continued, unwavering gaze on the goddess statue. “Death Mountain rumbles with warning. The monsters grow restless. Malice is thick in the air during the full moon. And I fear that the kingdom is not prepared.”

There was a reason that this ceremony, and those like it, where King Rhoam truly sought the guidance of the goddess, was performed with only those closest to him. He would never dare speak such thoughts in front of the masses.

Zelda, too, would confess her worries only in private one day.

“My daughter, our own Princess Zelda, bears the triforce promised to her bloodline. She wears her burden well, Mother, but it worries me that we have not yet found her counterpart, your chosen hero and knight. We cannot face the Calamity without him, and I fear for the wellbeing of our kingdom if the Calamity strikes first.

“I ask for your guidance in this time of trouble. Whether that be to find him among our own, or in our sister kingdoms, or afield; whether that be to move on and trust your will, or to prepare ourselves for great challenges, know that I only wish the best for my kingdom, and I trust, Mother, that you desire the same.”

Zelda could sense, somewhere in the rhythm of her father’s speech, that he was finally drawing to a close, not having broken the stare of the goddess statue the entire time, nor moved from his place on one knee. It remained to be seen whether the goddess Hylia would answer him, or if she would leave them to follow their own faithful judgment.

Silently, hand squeezing Mrs. Godfrey’s and eyes on the goddess statue alongside her father’s, Zelda prayed too.

_Please help us, divine mother. I have the most awful feeling about the coming years._

“Mother, bid us well as we walk our path.”

King Rhoam wrapped up his prayer with a tone of finality, and only then bowed his head to the towering statue. And perhaps that would have been the end of it.

But then the statue’s eyes began to glow. Her smile seemed to curve and widen, soft and benevolent. Zelda gasped softly, wavering on her feet in an imaginary quake, and Mrs. Godfrey caught her without looking, rigidly tense. Zelda leaned into her, eyes wide, but something in her… could not bring herself to be afraid.

A fraction of the weather-worn wall behind the goddess’ head disappeared, but their angle, far below, didn’t allow them to see where it led. The lightest breeze seemed to flicker through the stale air of the temple.

“Hold,” Rhoam said warningly, suddenly on his feet. Every guard on either side of him had drawn their swords; Mrs. Godfrey had pushed Zelda behind her. All of them watched the passage that had opened high above the statue.

The passage closed again. For a reason she couldn’t quite identify, Zelda’s breath hitched. The air went still.

A head poked out from beside the goddess’ wing, features indistinguishable across the distance. None of them relaxed, but Zelda’s governess gasped quietly, squeezing her hand. Zelda didn’t take her eyes off the newcomer.

They felt. Important.

“Make yourself known,” King Rhoam commanded, his deep voice booming through the stone temple. “Are you a servant of the goddess or the Calamity?”

There was a heavy pause, and then the figure started to climb down, sliding carelessly across the goddess statue – down her shoulder, then her robes, and finally dropping to hit the ground, crouching to absorb the impact.

They were wearing a hood, and something sparkled at their forehead from underneath it. Their light blue tunic looked ceremonial, but their trousers were ordinary and they were as heavily armed as any of the guards. Their eyes were so strikingly blue that Zelda could make it out from halfway across the grand room, and they leveled their gaze at King Rhoam without flinching despite the protective motions of the royal guards.

Then, wordlessly, they stripped off one of their fingerless gloves and flashed the back of their hand at Rhoam, revealing a vivid, unmistakable triforce to match the faded one on Zelda’s own hand.

Most of the guards lowered their bows and blades. Rhoam held steady, though Zelda could see it was a strain.

Was it really that easy?

“Are you my daughter’s counterpart?” Rhoam asked the mystery figure, holding himself stiff and tall despite the gravity of the situation.

The hooded figure glanced over at Zelda for just a split second, finding her easily, and then looked at Rhoam again and nodded. They raised their hands and signed, _Do any of you know sign language?_

Zelda gasped softly. Legend said that the goddess’ hero spoke rarely, if ever, preferring the use of sign; she had been taught it as a child for that reason, and her father before her, and all of the royal guard-

But it felt different, somehow, here and now, to have the hero _ask._

“Speak and be understood, hero,” Rhoam said firmly. “Everyone in this room knows your language.”

There was a split second’s pause, and then the hero nodded and continued, _I’m from some years in the future. Without intervention, this fight against the Calamity will not go well. The goddess has asked me to do what I can to help this attempt go better._

“Show us your face and tell us your name, boy,” Rhoam commanded. “Your advice will be heeded, but not your secrecy.”

The hero grunted softly, and then reached up to drop his hood, revealing a face much younger than Zelda would have expected, cheeks round with youth and hair braided in a simple traveling style.

 _My name is L-i-n-k,_ he signed simply. Rhoam’s eyes narrowed.

“Link… Are you Selwyn’s boy?”

Zelda glanced at one of the guards, closest to the front on her father’s left side. His expression barely twitched, but she thought his name was Selwyn.

Link – _Zelda’s counterpart,_ the hero to her princess, the sword to her seal – shrugged. _I’m not sure. A particularly harsh battle cost me most of my memory of my early life. I won’t be able to help you find me._

Rhoam grunted as well, low and contemplative. “One last question before we return to the castle, boy. Have you defeated the Calamity?”

Link tilted his head, and he didn’t smile. _Yes. But not before most of the kingdom fell. It will take more than just my own efforts to do better this time._

“Then we will waste no time,” Rhoam said, with such grim decisiveness that Zelda wondered if he had suspected all along that they would lose. “We will return to the castle, and there we can launch the first steps of our preparation.”

Link nodded, and Mrs. Godfrey exhaled shakily, squeezing Zelda’s hand in hers.

“Goddess save us all,” she murmured, almost too quiet for Zelda to hear.

* * *

With over a decade of experience, Selwyn was one of the most senior members of the royal guard, well-respected among his peers and trusted by the king himself. And it took every one of those years to maintain his careful composure when Link dropped his hood.

Even now, as they mounted their horses by the road that skirted the bluffs, Selwyn could barely take his eyes off the boy. He hadn’t seemed to notice Selwyn, who had no idea whether to be grateful for the fact; in fact, most of his attention seemed to be on the young Princess Zelda, who was staring back with wide, uncertain eyes, clinging to her governess for reassurance.

Selwyn’s only son was nine years old at the moment, the youngest of his four children. He said perhaps one or two words on a good day, liked to climb the cathedral when no one was looking, and had a bad habit of disappearing into the forest to gather mushrooms for dinner whenever he felt like it.

He was unnaturally brilliant with a sword, and was picking up skill with a bow quite rapidly as well. There was already talk of allowing him to begin knight training years earlier than was typically encouraged.

Selwyn looked at this man, no more than twenty years old by Selwyn’s estimation, and found that it was _easy_ to see his little boy in him.

“I’m afraid we came to the temple to pray for guidance, not a hero,” King Rhoam was saying to Link, allowing the man to linger only a step behind him. “So we don’t have a horse prepared for you.”

Link shrugged, tilting his head up to watch the king. He was still a small boy, dwarfed by the king on his horse. _That’s fine. Is there still a herd up ahead?_

Rhoam raised an eyebrow at his guard, and Cedric, the oldest of them, offered, “There is, sire, a herd of wild horses in the Aldor Foothills.”

 _I can tame a wild horse,_ Link said, unconcerned, Selwyn’s little boy who once had coaxed a sweet young doe over the bridge and tried to convince his parents to let him keep it.

Selwyn could see vicious scarring peeking out from under the boy’s clothing, patches of rough raised skin creeping up from his right shoulder and each wrist, hinting at much more hidden from sight. His stomach turned, but he kept his head held high and his guard up. He was still on duty.

Goddess, this was a nightmare.

“Then we will pause when we reach that point,” Rhoam said decisively, and turned his horse to lead the way down the road.

Link didn’t seem bothered by the long travel on foot; if anything, he seemed exceedingly comfortable, weaving back and forth off the path as if apathetic to the group he traveled with. He climbed a few yards up a cliff face to harvest some rushrooms, took a detour to pick some Hyrule herbs they passed by, crossed the road to pick some apples off a tree…

Selwyn found himself overly aware of the things he was so used to his son doing already, and in particular the way Zelda watched with wide eyes, like Link had become an object of fascination. Even the other guards were sneaking glances at him, expressions anywhere from calculating to wary to faintly awed.

Link ate one of the apples, gaze scanning the landscape thoughtfully, and kept the other two tucked under his arm. His eyes lingered on each house they passed, shadowed and wary. If Selwyn looked closely, he could just identify the sword on his back as the sword of legend, the shield as the Hylian shield. The bow, unnervingly, looked like one that would be wielded by a strong lynel.

They stopped, as the king had promised, by the Aldor foothills, and Link nodded to the king and took off towards the herd in the distance. At a suitable length away, he crouched, starting to creep toward one of the horses with more care.

“So, Selwyn,” King Rhoam said, without looking at him. “Is that your son?”

Selwyn had to clear his throat before replying, eyes on the figure carefully approaching a beautiful blue-gray horse up the hill. “Yes, sire, I believe so. The physical resemblance is clear, and the behavioral similarities are, if anything, even more pronounced.”

Link held out the first apple, waiting patiently for the horse to come close enough to take it from his hand, and then fed it the second and started to pet it. Selwyn could almost hear him making soft, soothing sounds to it as he worked.

Selwyn _ached._ Link was going to grow up into a wonderful boy.

Just a few minutes later, Link was nudging his chosen horse over to them at a gentle trot, guiding it with nothing more than his knees in its flanks and a hand in its mane. When he was close to the group, he nodded to the king, who nodded back, eyes narrow and assessing.

“Do you have everything you need, boy?” he asked. Link tilted his head, and then nodded. “Then let us be on our way. Fall in beside my daughter. I trust you will look after her and her governess.”

Link looked back, sharp eyes immediately finding the princess and her aide, and without another word he dropped back to stay between her and the road, scanning the horizon with the ease of obvious practice before looking back at her.

And then, for the first time since he’d appeared, he smiled. It was small, and looked tired, but it was real.

 _Hello,_ he said to the princess, letting go of the horse’s mane to speak. _I don’t believe I knew you when you were this young. Have you started studying potions yet?_

Eyes wide and fixed on the older boy, Zelda shook her head, clinging to her governess behind her.

 _You’ll like it,_ Link assured her. _You always got very excited about your research. You once spent upwards of twenty minutes convincing me to eat a live frog to see if it enhanced my speed._

“I fed the hero of the goddess a frog?” Zelda squeaked out, and then clapped her hands over her mouth, and then signed, _I fed the hero of the goddess a frog?_

 _Don’t worry, I’m well known for eating anything that will fit in my mouth,_ Link said, eyes warm. This was true, though Selwyn had hoped he’d grow out of it. He couldn’t count the number of times Selwyn had found him eating bugs and dirt and handfuls of minnows. _A Goron friend of mine liked to feed me rocks after battles, said it would help me grow big and strong._

Zelda smiled at Link, shy and awestruck still, but eyes starting to sparkle with amusement. _I don’t think it worked._

 _No, it turns out rocks don’t offer Hylians a lot of nutrients,_ Link agreed, smiling at Zelda like an old friend.

One of the other guards, Asher, gestured subtly to catch Selwyn’s attention, and then asked him, _You let your boy eat rocks?_

 _Do you think there’s a damn thing I can do about it?_ Selwyn signed back, and then winced when King Rhoam cleared his throat meaningfully.

 _I don’t think I should, though,_ Zelda added hesitantly, shooting her father a guilty glance.

Link’s smile disappeared. _I’m going to talk to your father about that. The approach to your training is one of the things I’m going to suggest changing._ Zelda deflated visibly, and Link’s expression softened. _I promise you were exemplary to the end. No one could have asked for better. But that was by your own virtue, not that of your training._

Mrs. Godfrey reached down to squeeze Zelda’s shoulder, comforting her when she did not relax. “Oh,” Zelda whispered, still looking unhappy.

 _You saved my life,_ Link added, focused and earnest. Selwyn felt his heart skip a beat painfully in his chest, and glanced at the scarring that crept out from under Link’s tunic, too vivid for a boy his age. _You saved the kingdom._

Zelda looked cheered, though, straightening almost immediately in place. _Then I’ll look into it as soon as I can,_ she vowed, with determination enough that Selwyn almost found himself smiling alongside his son.

His son. Goddess.

Link nodded at her kindly, and then looked ahead again, one hand returning to the horse’s mane and the other stroking its neck with deliberate gentleness.

_His boy._


	2. Chapter 2

It was evening before they arrived in the castle’s observation room, settling in a mockery of informality around a table at the foot of the stairs. Link didn’t look bothered, though Selwyn noticed that he placed himself beside Zelda as if by habit, even with the girl so small.

Most of the guards remained outside the doors, standing watch, but with a glance and a gesture, Rhoam indicated for Selwyn and a few of the others to remain inside, likely as both guard and advisors. Selwyn himself was mostly just grateful for the chance to continue watching.

Zelda was wriggling impatiently in her seat, Mrs. Godfrey’s hand on her shoulder not quite enough to settle her, and the guards lined the walls with care.

The king, of course, sat directly across from Link, steadfast and strong.

“Give us your warnings, hero,” Rhoam said, heavy with determination. “Catrain will transcribe your words for perusal.”

Link cocked his head, and then glanced over at Mrs. Godfrey, who nodded at him, already laying out a notebook and ink quill. Link looked back at Rhoam, shifted so his hands were more visible, and said, _I must warn His Majesty that Zelda told me I lost many of my court manners with my memory. I may at times be blunt._

 _Acknowledged,_ Rhoam said, finally switching to elegant sign now with everyone situated to see him well. _Speak freely._

 _There are three orders of business immediately to mind,_ Link said, and Selwyn fleetingly wondered if he had thought about this before. _Have you begun excavating the land for ancient technology?_

King Rhoam’s eyebrows rose. _Only just. I would ask that you not mention it outside of this room. It is still meant to be secret._

 _Apologies,_ Link said shortly. _I will be discrete. As you dig, you will find two things: guardians and divine beasts. Do not reactivate the guardians. They are too easily corrupted by the Calamity’s malice, and the damage they cause is catastrophic._

Selwyn didn’t like the intensity of Link’s expression as he said that.

 _We can reinforce them against malice,_ Rhoam said, with such acerbic determination that Selwyn wondered if he’d been lying about them not having only just started. _I will not readily turn down the tools of our ancestors._

Link frowned at the king, skirting so close to hostile that Selwyn worried for him and wanted to scold him by turns. _A single blow is fatal to an unarmored man. They can crush walls beneath their feet and bridges with their beams._

 _All the better to destroy the monsters that serve the Calamity,_ Rhoam said steadily. _No ordinary man can fight a lynel in service to Ganon._

 _I’ll fight a dozen lynels before I find myself forced to stand against those guardians alone again,_ Link snapped, and it was definitely a snap, motions clipped and angry. Selwyn’s breath hitched, thinking of the towering form of a white-mane lynel, the crusher weapons that were as big as a man’s torso. _At least lynels are vulnerable to ordinary weapons._

_Do you understand calculated risks, boy?_

Abruptly, Link turned to Zelda, who squeaked, eyes wide. But Link only signed, slow and gentle, _Cover your eyes, please. I’ll have your governess tell you when you can look again._

Zelda stared up at him, trembling, and then covered her eyes.

Then, uninvited, Link pushed himself up and twisted to sit on the table, still facing most of the room, including Selwyn. And then he pushed up his tunic.

Someone gasped, quiet and strangled. After a moment Selwyn realized it had been him, his fingers convulsing on the hilt of his sword. Link didn’t look up, but Selwyn knew he had noticed.

The skin under Link’s tunic was a _mess;_ it was so much worse than Selwyn had thought from the little he could see around the edges. No, his entire stomach, most of his chest, all the way up, Selwyn suspected, to his shoulder- the skin was twisted, torn, and melted, rough and papery in places, bunched tight in others. It looked horrifically painful.

Link twisted. His back, while not as thoroughly covered, had many of the same marks, the worst of which was centered on an awful blast-shaped mark near the small of his back.

After an eternity, he dropped the tunic, nodded at a faintly trembling Mrs. Godfrey, and turned to the king.

 _My body was reinforced by the goddess,_ Link said, too calmly for what he had just shown them. Even the king was dead white. _My sword shielded me from the worst of Ganon’s magic. I had skill and endurance far and above most of my peers. And the turn of the guardians brought me a breath from death’s door. It would be a poorly calculated risk to take._

King Rhoam took a deep, steadying breath. After a few pointed nudges from his friend beside him, Selwyn forced himself to do the same.

 _And what of the divine beasts?_ Rhoam asked at last.

Link softened, looking exhausted, and slid back down into his seat. _I’ll leave that to your discretion. It would be a risk, but not an insurmountable one. The divine beasts could not be used against us as viciously as the guardians were, and they were invaluable against the Calamity itself. If you decide to use them, I would be willing to make suggestions for how to go from there._

Selwyn saw Zelda poke her governess and ask silently, _What did he do?_ Mrs. Godfrey just shook her head, expression grim, and belatedly started writing again.

 _And the second order of business?_ King Rhoam demanded as much as asked.

 _Your daughter,_ Link said simply. _Seventeen years of relentless prayer did not unlock her powers. I don’t know what will, except that when I saw it happen, it was when I was on the verge of death. Regardless, rigorous training is not a route worth pursuing, and you regretted it in the hour of your death._

To his credit, Rhoam responded to this news with nothing more than a grim nod. _What do you suggest as an alternative, then?_

 _A friend of mine suggested that passion might be more key,_ Link said. _Your daughter loves her kingdom. Let that be her guidance and trust that she will find her own way._

Rhoam did not look impressed, but he did not immediately discard this as he had the rebuff on guardians. Instead, he looked Link up and down, and commanded abruptly, _Show me your sword._

Link reached for it, and then hesitated and asked, _You know not to touch her?_

According to legend, any but the hero who touched the sword would have their energy and even their very life sapped from them in retribution. Selwyn wondered how much truth there was to the tale.

Rhoam inclined his head, and Link took it from its sheath and set it across the table.

Selwyn, despite himself, couldn’t help but lean forward a little to look. He was gratified to notice that no one else seemed able to restrain themselves either.

The sword that sealed the darkness was a beautiful blade.

 _Have you proven yourself to the blade?_ Rhoam asked.

 _As many times as she’s asked me to,_ Link answered without hesitation. Selwyn noticed the use of the animate pronoun and wondered if it was simple attachment to his sword, or something else.

_Had my daughter?_

_I know she was allowed to handle her, but no one but me may wield her._

Rhoam stared at the sword for a few moments longer, and then, finally, leaned back and nodded. _I will consider your words. What is your last order of business?_

 _My younger self,_ Link said, clipped. _How old is Zelda?_

 _Ten years old at this time,_ Rhoam said, starting to frown. Zelda was curious too, wriggling in place again, worried and wary.

 _Then I’ll be nine,_ Link said decisively, and despite himself, Selwyn swallowed. _Don’t look for your hero just yet. The goddess’ trials are not gentle, and nine is far too young for them._

There was a distinctly calculating gleam in Rhoam’s eyes this time, when he challenged Link. _War is not gentle._

Link’s eyes flashed with displeasure, and he definitely hadn’t noticed Rhoam’s deliberate manipulation, because he said, quick and firm, _Three of my trials sent me to the heart of the Lomei Labyrinths. One of them stranded me on a deserted island without supplies, where I fought two monster camps and a hinox. One had me navigating through ruins shrouded in eternal darkness. Nine is too young for the goddess’ trials._

Rhoam didn’t even bother pushing his challenge this time, instead sitting back to regard Link thoughtfully. _You’re well-tried for one so young._

Link looked briefly taken aback, frowning a little as he tried to process that.

 _The goddess expects a lot of me,_ he said at last, as if that was the end of it.

Selwyn expected a lot of his children too. He expected them to learn quickly and work hard. He expected them to make mistakes once and no more, and to maintain awareness of themselves and their surroundings. But he didn’t expect _this._

Rhoam just nodded, though, thoughtful like it made perfect sense. _Tell me this, then, boy. How far in the future are you from?_

Link’s expression shuttered.

 _Just over a hundred years,_ he signed, with a lack of feeling that was detached instead of calm. _I’ll show you where to find the Shrine of Resurrection eventually, but it took me a century to recover from the injuries I sustained in the Calamity. Zelda had to hold the line alone until I woke from stasis._

Even the clang of metal on metal didn’t make Link look away from Rhoam, which was good, because Selwyn didn’t think he could hide his dismay even with Asher’s hand on his arm holding him still and grounded.

 _Link doesn’t even know your face,_ Selwyn reminded himself harshly. _He won’t respond well to being parented right now._

A dark shadow fell over Rhoam’s expression, grim and resigned. _The kingdom fell._

 _The kingdom fell,_ Link agreed, and then he bowed his head. _I’m sorry._

* * *

It was far too late that night when Selwyn returned home, and Eileen, of course, noticed right away, her brown eyes too sharp and too knowing from where she was dozing on the sofa. Their little boy was already curled up against her legs, tuckered out from whatever adventures he’d gone on that day.

Selwyn went straight there, sat beside Link, and pulled the sleeping child across his lap. A light sleeper since infancy, Link woke with the jostling, tilting his head up to squint up at Selwyn inquisitively.

“Go back to sleep, honey nut,” Selwyn said quietly, and Link yawned and curled up into him, slipping back off without any further questioning.

“What’s wrong?” Eileen asked, voice soft as kitten fur, not making any move to take Link back from him. Good, since Selwyn didn’t think he could bear to let the boy go right now. “Did something happen?”

Selwyn shook his head, because even with the roiling mess his stomach was he couldn’t bring himself to speak of things he’d been told in secret. He reached for the elastic that held Link’s hair back and tugged it out, letting Link’s hair fall free, and then the little braids that framed his face too.

Selwyn wanted to reach under his shirt too, check that the skin there was still unharmed and child-soft, that there was nothing rough or twisted under his collar. That was the point at which he would start to fret Eileen even more, though, so he contented himself with this, his son’s warm weight on his lap and head lolling against his chest and soft breath puffing at his arm.

“King Rhoam is pessimistic about the kingdom’s future,” Selwyn said at last, because that was all he could reveal without betraying the king’s trust. “How are the girls?”

“I think Grace and Mary are still awake, if you want,” Eileen said, quiet and sympathetic. “Eloise might be reading, but you know how that girl likes her sleep.”

Selwyn shook his head, and then changed his mind and nodded. “Tell them I have something for them.”

Eileen raised her eyebrows, but nodded, disappearing just into the children’s bedroom.

With his wife out of sight, Selwyn bit his cheek, then lifted his son’s right hand up and examined it in the flickering firelight. There, barely visible even if you knew to look for it, was an unmistakable little faded triforce, only a shade off the color of Link’s skin.

Selwyn had never noticed. Not once in nine years.

Link stirred again and Selwyn dropped his hand like a hot potato, but Link was already blinking blearily, pushing himself up carelessly off Selwyn’s chest.

“Dark,” he mumbled, thin and hoarse, frowning at Selwyn, and Selwyn had to laugh, reaching up to ruffle his son’s honey-blond hair – matched to his wife’s instead of Selwyn’s own auburn.

“My duties ran long, honey nut, that’s all.”

Link dropped back down lazily, freeing his hands. _Shouldn’t keep you past your shift. That’s what a schedule’s for._

 _Sometimes it just can’t be helped,_ Selwyn chided gently, the firelight making the shadows of his hands dance against the back wall. _You’re all worn out yourself, what have you been doing all day?_

Link yawned. _Played with Sera around the watchtower. Guards kept trying to drive us off, but they couldn’t catch us._

 _What have I told you about distracting the guards?_ Selwyn chided, but the rush of relief was too much to put any heart into it, and Link just grunted wordlessly and curled into him, seeking warmth and already dozing off again. He mumbled something that might’ve been an attempt at a word, but if so, Selwyn couldn’t make it out.

Footsteps made Selwyn look up, and Grace came into sight first, eyes bright and curious, shortly followed by Mary. Mary was followed by Eileen, who caught Selwyn’s eye and signed, _Eloise is fast asleep, but I can wake her if you need._

Selwyn shook his head, already much more at ease for having seen his family, safe and sound. _Let her sleep, it’ll keep until tomorrow._

He ran his gaze intently over the two older children in front of him – Mary, his youngest daughter, and Grace, the middle child, both wide awake and waiting… one a little more patiently than the other, he noted with an amused glance at Grace.

 _Things might be getting more dangerous in Hyrule soon,_ he signed at last, earning a gratifying seriousness from both his children. _I want the two of you to have these. I’ll give your sister hers tomorrow._

Link, at nine years old, would not be getting a weapon to carry with him at all times, destiny or no destiny. Mary, Grace, and Eloise, at sixteen, eighteen, and twenty-two respectively, probably should have received some quite some time ago.

He pulled two identical daggers from his pouch and set them on the arm of the sofa, where each girl picked them up to examine them, letting them flash in the light.

“Mary,” Selwyn said to catch her attention, and then waved his hand to catch Grace’s. He kept his face serious as he continued, _These are not for killing monsters. Do you understand me? I want you to repeat what I said._

 _These are not for killing monsters,_ Grace echoed obediently, followed a moment later by Mary, whose laser focus was almost, _almost_ enough to satisfy Selwyn. _Why not?_

 _It takes more than a clumsily wielded sharp edge to kill a bokoblin,_ Selwyn said bluntly. _You take that, you stab them, and you run away. Mary, bokoblin are loud, so you’ll probably hear them, but Grace, I don’t want you ever walking outside the town walls without keeping a constant eye on your surroundings. Do you understand?_

 _I understand,_ Grace said, with such a tremulously uncertain look that Selwyn had to soften.

_I’m not trying to scare you. I just want you to be careful. Will you be careful?_

_I’ll be careful,_ Grace promised, and Selwyn smiled at her, patted the couch beside him in invitation, and glanced at Mary in question. Mary turned the dagger over in her hands, and then shook her head.

“Going to bed,” she mumbled, but she waved before she left, lingering a little just by the door to examine them before disappearing through.

Eileen sat on Selwyn’s other side, sighing hard enough to ruffle Link’s hair. _You be careful too,_ she signed carefully, meeting his eyes with deliberate seriousness.

 _Always,_ Selwyn promised, letting Grace lean against him from his other side. He tried not to think of the older Link in the castle, probably curling up all alone in a borrowed bed, or staying awake to keep watch in an unfamiliar place.

There was work to be done. Selwyn just had to remember that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda's diary mentions that Link told her that the stress of his station was the reason he stayed silent. In this verse (as all of my fics) I'm interpreting this to mean that he was semiverbal as a child, and became fully nonverbal as the stress built.
> 
> A lot of meeting-the-family fics like to make things messy and complicated and stressful. (I'm looking at you, Harry Potter fandom.) I'm not doing that. This is going to be sweet and indulgent. Things will be hard sometimes, but it won't be because Link's family is making it hard.
> 
> And little Link is not going to be neglected, I promise.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I've been working on this one for a month or two now! Very pleased to be finally putting it up. As a fair warning, this fic is incredibly indulgent in like, all ways. There are a lot of original characters, but I promise they're there to love and care about Link.
> 
> If you want a peek at what's coming, you can read 'Family Portrait', which is a short oneshot that alludes to some things that will come up in this fic.


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